Right Before Your Eyes
by Grissom
Summary: --Complete-- There was a flurry of action around her, but Sara felt almost as if she were separated from it all. Just a spectator in a world that she didn’t belong in."
1. There's Been An Accident

Title: Right Before Your Eyes

Author: Grissom

9-21-04 (Completed)

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back! This story has been in the back of my mind for _quite_ a while, and it took an event in my real life to get me to pick it up again. As usual, let me send a BIG thanks to Grissomgal71 for her – as usual – great beta job! You've been a great friend throughout all of this, Jamie! Thanks! Any other mistakes will be my fault...but you can still blame them on the presidential debate if you want!**

**Disclaimer: Well, I used to own it. But then I lost it to CBS when I lost a bet on LSU football. Life just hasn't been the same...But I make no money or anything from these. This is just me venting out my overactive imagination.**

Elaine frowned as she made her way through the labyrinth of halls in the Las Vegas crime lab. She glanced at a piece of paper for the tenth time, verifying that the man she was supposed to meet was Gil Grissom. She sighed, peering at the signs, or lack thereof, on every door, unsure of where the supervisor's office was.

She was so absorbed in her task that she ran right into someone. She caught her balance, then looked up at the brunette she'd collided with. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, stooping to pick up some papers that had fallen.

"It's all right." The woman restacked the papers, which weren't very stable to begin with. She gave Elaine a gap-toothed smile. "You looking for something?"

"Yeah. Gil Grissom? I'm supposed to report to him."

The woman made a slight face. "What do you need to see him for?"

"I'm the new DNA tech. I was supposed to come in this week to get shown the ropes and stuff before the present tech graduated to CSI."

The woman seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Guess Gris made his decision then...Go, Greg!" She grinned. "Oh, Sara Sidle by the way."

"Elaine Klemmings." Elaine held out her hand, then realized the woman wouldn't be able to shake.

"Hang on just a sec," Sara said, stepping into an empty layout room. She dumped the papers on the table, then went back to Elaine, satisfied that no one would mess with them. "Okay. Let me show you to Grissom's office," Sara offered, then began to lead the way.

As they walked, Sara learned the hard way that Elaine was very proud of her accomplishments. The daughter of a single mother, she had been valedictorian of her high school, in the top ten percent of her undergraduate class at UNLV, and had even studied at Harvard University.

"I had to drop out because my mom got sick, but I'm planning to go back some day and get my Masters," Elaine added, while Sara tried to stay interested. She wasn't being rude, she was just tired of the tone with which Elaine delivered the story. It was very arrogant.

"I've been trained with some of the top techs in the country. I'm familiar with virtually every type of machine used in crime labs, so no matter what you've got, I can handle it." She laughed. "It wouldn't surprise me if I ended up teaching your tech a few things!"

A few minutes later, Sara led her around a corner into an office filled with shelves and odd knick-knacks. Upon closer inspection, however, Elaine realized that the 'knick-knacks' were actually jars filled with embalmed creatures and body parts. She stared in horror for a moment, then turned her attention to the voice coming from inside the office.

A man in his mid-forties sat at the desk, talking animatedly into the phone. He took the glasses from his face and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, making a face at something that was said over the line.

"I already told you, Jim. I sent those Tuesday. Yeah, I did! We've had this conversation before...I gotta go. No, Sara's here... Jim!" He made another face at the phone, then hung it up, shaking his head. Finally, he looked up and acknowledged the two women. "Yeah?"

Sara smirked, stepping further into the office, gesturing a reluctant Elaine to follow. "Gris, this is your new lab tech."

Elaine extended a hand, which Grissom shook. "Elaine Klemmings."

"Gil Grissom." He nodded, then leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Elaine to have a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She did, still glancing around the office nervously. Sara decided to haunt the doorway.

He rummaged through his desk for a moment, finally pulling out a small stack of papers. "I'll need you to sign these. This tells us that you know there are risks involved in working in a crime lab and that you are willing to take those risks."

Elaine scoffed. "What's so dangerous about it?"

"Well, you are working with dozens of different chemicals every day, many of which could be deadly. You may be dealing with sharp knives, poisons, blood material...you name it. We even had the DNA lab get blown up once."

Elaine's eyes widened. She'd obviously never been told _all_ of the risks involved in being a simple lab tech. She stared at the papers for a long moment, then reached over and grabbed a pen, scribbling her name on the designated lines.

Grissom scooped them up when they were handed back to him and looked them over. "You'll have to fill out your tax forms later. I seem to be missing them right now. Other than that, everything else checks out. Your references had nothing but good things to say about you, and your credentials are excellent." He looked up at her, then shifted his eyes to Sara. "Since all that's in order, I'm sure Sara won't mind showing you to the DNA lab before meeting with everyone else in the break room for assignments."

Sara glared at him for a moment, a little put-off at being stuck with baby-sitting duty.

Grissom saw this and, to Sara's surprise, smiled. "I'm sure after a few days here, you'll know the halls by heart like the rest of us," he said, turning to Elaine. "Some of us could walk through the lab in our sleep, and at times I think that really happens."

"Especially after double-shifts," Sara added from her spot by the door.

Grissom nodded, then looked down and began to dig through a drawer, spilling a few papers onto the floor. "I'll be in the break room in a few minutes, Sara."

Sara shrugged, taking Grissom's hint that it was time for her to take Elaine to her place. She motioned to the tech, then began to step through the halls.

As they were walking, Elaine caught up with Sara. "Kind of an odd guy, isn't he?"

"A little," Sara admitted, a small grin crossing her face.

"Kind of cute..." Elaine added. "Don't you think?"

"Hmm..." Sara said, avoiding the question. Elaine caught her hesitation and spent the rest of the walk studying the CSI.

They stepped into the DNA lab, only to be assaulted by Puddle of Mudd. Grimacing at the sheer volume of the music, Sara spotted Greg Sanders peering into a microscope. She was puzzled at how the guy could concentrate with his music so loud. She went to the CD player and switched it off.

Sanders turned around quickly, his look of panic melting at the sight of Sara. "Geez, Sara. Trying to give me a heart attack? I thought Grissom was on the prowl."

Sara smirked. "You got lucky this time." She gestured to Elaine. "This is the new DNA tech. You're supposed to show her all of the procedures."

"Yeah, yeah. I got the lecture from Grissom yesterday." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at a stack of books. "I gotta go over all of the safety rules and the proper way to handle evidence." He waggled his eyebrows at Elaine. "After that, we get to the fun stuff."

"Oh boy," Elaine said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Greg's face fell, but then he smiled when Sara rolled her eyes. She glanced at her watch. "Listen guys, I gotta go. If I get to the break room late, I'll end up with a trick roll or something."

Greg gave her a half-wave as she turned to leave, then began to explain to Elaine how some safety rules could be bent and others could be completely disregarded. Sara grinned as she walked down the halls, but it faded when she saw that the break room was empty. She glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was ten minutes past the time she was supposed to have been there. She cursed to herself. Then she turned to leave, running right into Grissom.

"What is it with me running into people today?" she asked angrily to no one. Then she frowned, looking up at Grissom and sighing. "What's left for me?"

"Where were you?"

"I had to endure Greg's speech about disregarding the porn he's got hidden around the lab," she retorted.

Grissom nodded, then pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. "Saved one for you," he said, handing it to her.

She took it, glancing at him as she unfolded it. Then she looked up at him with a grin. "I get to work the DB on Fremont?"

Grissom pointed from her to him. "You're with me. Nick's on a suicide at a local high school, Warrick's on a B&E, and Catherine gets a shooting at a local Burger King."

Sara was still smiling at him. "So, what've we got?"

Grissom returned her smile with a small one of his own. "We've got a dead guy. Found in an alley on Fremont with two bullet holes in his head, along with some stab marks. We'll know more when we get to the site."

* * *

Sara glanced up at Grissom from her position on the cold pavement. She watched him for a moment as he scrupulously scanned his own perimeter with a magnifying glass. Then, as if sensing her gaze, he looked up at her.

"I'm not finding anything," she told him.

He sighed, setting his hands on his knees. "Me neither." He cocked his head to the side, looking over the scene again.

"If it was a stabbing, the perp probably cut himself; they always do. So why isn't there a blood trail leaving the scene?"

Grissom scratched his beard for a moment. "What if the vic was shot first, then stabbed?"

Sara made a face. "He was shot in the _head_, Gris. Twice. Why would the killer need to stab him so many times after that? I mean, the first bullet probably killed him."

Grissom glanced at the blood puddle by the corpse, then looked back at Sara. "Mutilation."

Sara felt like smacking herself in the head. _Of course!_ she thought. She nodded to him. "Must have been personal then?" she asked, already knowing the answer as she studied the tattered body.

"Very personal. Somebody was pissed."

Sara smiled, getting, to her surprise, a small one in return. "I'll have to tell Brass to get us some information when we get an ID. Friends, family, coworkers. Anybody that might have had a problem with the vic."

Grissom nodded, then looked towards the assistant coroner as he rushed up to them. David Philips gave Sara a small, shy smile. "Hey, guys."

Grissom made a point of looking at his watch. "Where have you been? The body was called in two hours ago."

David held up his hands. "Sorry, sir. I was in the middle of an autopsy, and then we get stuck because of a wreck by the Strip. Murphy's Law," he added.

Grissom nodded. "So..." he began, and David tensed up for a lecture. "How'd your autopsy go? I trust the guy was dead this time?"

"As a doorknob, sir," David replied, smiling in relief. He turned to the body. "You guys haven't touched him, have you?" He paled slightly at the glares directed at him. "Okay. Dumb question." He went over to the vic, turning his back to the two CSI's.

Grissom shook his head, then stood up, wincing a bit as his knees protested. He stepped over to a dumpster and peered inside with his Maglite. Sara continued her search of the ground, hoping for anything.

A moment later, after both the search in the dumpster and on the ground failed, David cleared the body. Grissom hunkered down next to the bloodied body, pulling on a fresh set of latex gloves.

He pushed the young man's jacket back and pulled out an equally bloody wallet. He opened it, then held it up so Sara could see the holes from the stabbing. He pulled out a driver's license. "Scott Allen," he read. "Eighteen years old," he added, his voice heavy.

He flipped through the contents of the wallet. "Twenty-six dollars, a credit card, and a Subway punch card." He shrugged as he handed Sara the wallet to bag.

"Rules out robbery," she said as she sealed the bag.

"I never figured it for a robbery. Nothing seems to fit." He checked the pockets, finding only a piece of notebook paper. He tried to read it, but the blood seemed to have reached even the jeans pockets. He bagged it, then nodded to David.

* * *

"Cause of death was the two bullets in his skull," Doc Robbins said as he pointed to the freshly cleaned body of Scott Allen. "Managed to recover one for ballistics." He peered closer at the bullet hole. "Turned his brain into grey Jell-O. The knife wounds were all postmortem. This cut on his arm," Robbins pointed to a deep gash on the youth's right arm, "was para-mortem. Looks like a defensive wound. He's also got some bruising around his eye and a hairline fracture on his eye ridge."

Grissom nodded, almost to himself. "He was probably attacked with the knife first. Then maybe knocked out with the handle?"

Robbins nodded. "That's possible. The force of the blow to his head would have knocked out a horse."

"Wait, so he was shot while he was unconscious?" Sara interjected.

"More than likely."

Sara shook her head. "So our killer first attacks the vic with a knife, then uses the handle-"

"Or something else," Grissom interrupted, knowing that they couldn't just assume that the knife handle had been used.

"Knocks him out," Sara continued, unaffected by Grissom's comment. "And after that, shoots him twice in the head and stabs him twenty times." She sighed. "That's one sick bastard."

"That's why we need to do our jobs even faster than usual. Before he strikes again," Grissom told her.

Some time later, after changing out of his scrubs, Grissom found himself watching as Ronnie the document guy cleaned the blood from the piece of paper found in the victim's pocket.

It was hard, tedious work for Ronnie. One thing done incorrectly could render the evidence useless, washing away both ink and blood. The tech kept glancing over his shoulder at Grissom, who sat on a stool looking over some lab safety reports.

"I can't work with you staring over my shoulder like that," Robbie whined.

Grissom raised an eyebrow, but kept reading his reports. It was nearly an hour later that Robbie stepped back and announced that he had 'saved the day again'. Grissom refrained from rolling his eyes and stepped up next to the big man.

"EXJ 864," Grissom read aloud, copying the numbers down into a small notebook. He gave Ronnie a quick nod, then walked out of the room, leaving the tech slightly confused.

Grissom stepped into another room, finding Sara seated at a computer. She looked up as he entered.

"I've been doing some research on our vic. He's local; lives in an apartment complex across town. Currently enrolled at the Las Vegas community college with a finance major. Parents live in Detroit. No criminal record." She shrugged. "Not much to go on."

"Run this through the DMV database," Grissom said, handing Sara the notebook.

She nodded and began typing. A moment later the search ended, and Sara and Grissom both studied the photo of the pierced, tattooed man on the screen.

It was Sara who finally spoke. "Lee Gibson. Twenty-eight year old janitor at the community college. Previous convictions include, among other things, DUI, Reckless Operation of a Motor Vehicle, Excessive Speeding, and Possession of Class A Narcotics." She scanned through the rest of the data. "One more moving violation and his license gets revoked."

"Hmm..." Grissom was lost in thought. "Print out the address. I think we need to pay Mr. Gibson a visit."

* * *

"So...what type of DNA do you see the most?" Elaine asked Greg as he prepared a tube.

"Well, we get tons of blood, tons of semen. We get saliva, hair, you name it. I've pulled DNA from a piece of gum before, as well as a tooth." He turned his chair around. "Not to brag or anything, but I am the DNA _Master_."

Elaine smiled. "So, what made you want to change to fieldwork? Don't CSI 1's make less?"

"True. But like I told Grissom, it's not about the money. It's something I want to do."

"You want to play with the dead people and the psychos?"

Greg grinned. "Yup!"

"Hmm..." she said, watching as he pulled some of the serum from a vial. "Your lab has some of the best equipment I've seen. I worked at a crime lab in Indianapolis for a while, and their stuff seemed way out of date. But this stuff," she said, putting a hand on the GC/MS, "is state-of-the-art."

Greg looked up at her for a moment. "Yeah. We do pretty good with grants and stuff. Though Ecklie and Atwater would never admit it, Grissom's the one that brings in a bunch of the grants. His entomology skills have government officials tripping over each other to give us money. That, and we have one of the best solve rates in the country."

"That's good to know."

"But," Greg began, adopting his arrogant voice again, "they wouldn't get half of it done if not for me."

Elaine smiled. _Perhaps working here won't be so bad after all!_

* * *

The home of Lee Gibson turned out to be a small, single-story, run-down house in one of the less desirable parts of town. The yard was barren, save for a few tufts of grass that defied the heat and lack of water.

A dog barked as the police cruiser and crime lab SUV pulled up. Sara could see what looked like a pit bull tied to the fence.

The officer stepped out of his car and studied the situation for a moment. "I'll get Animal Control for that," he said, seeing the dilapidated condition of the animal. As he spoke on the radio, Sara braved getting closer to the dog.

She hunkered down a few feet from the dog, though she was close enough to get out of the way if it tried to attack.

"Hey, puppy," she said kindly, holding out a hand to the dog.

The dog's rear end began to wag and, with a bowed head, it awkwardly approached. It got close enough for her to touch, and though at first it cringed when she petted it, it soon relaxed. Soon, it was trying to lick Sara in the face.

She laughed, then turned to Grissom, who was watching with a curious expression. "See, he's not mean. He says 'I was just lonely'," she cooed, rubbing the dog's ears. It closed its eyes and leaned into one of her hands.

Grissom grinned, then turned as the cop approached.

"Animal Control will take care of the dog. They'll get a vet to check him out, then they'll find him a home."

With the dog taken care of, Sara could now turn her attention to the task at hand. As they walked up to the house, Grissom leaned toward her. "I didn't know you were a dog person."

"Not particularly. I just hate to see a dog in that kind of condition."

The knock on the door and a shout from the officer yielded no results. They were about to leave when they spotted a woman standing at the end of the drive-way.

"You guys lookin' for Lee?"

"Yes ma'am," the officer said. "We need to ask him some questions. Do you know where he is?"

"Gone. Up and left earlier. Left his dog and all." She turned to watch as an Animal Control truck pulled onto the street. "But I guess you guys saw that already."

"You have no idea where he may have gone to?" Grissom pressed.

"No. He's not the real chatty type. Keeps to himself. I just saw him toss some stuff in his truck and take off. Tires made a real loud squeal."

"So he seemed to be in a hurry?"

"Yeah. Came home real late. Musta been about nine. Yeah, it was nine. Reruns of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' was on."

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Was there anything odd about his behavior?" the officer asked.

"You mean besides just running off without Kuba?" She nodded towards the dog, who was being lifted into the back of the AC truck. "He loved that dog. Or, he seemed to. I think maybe he was trying to fight him, but that dog's too sweet for that." She made a face. "Come to think of it, I think he'd wrecked his truck. There were some new dents in the back that weren't there yesterday. Maybe he backed into someone."

Grissom nodded as he scribbled into a notebook. "Thank you, ma'am."

The cop pulled a card out of his pocket. "If you can think of anything else, give me a call. Okay?"

"Right," the woman said, shoving the card into her pocket and shuffling to the house across the road.

When she was safely inside, the cop turned to the two CSI's. "So our guy's on the run?"

"Possibly. An APB would be nice," Grissom said.

The cop grinned. "Consider it done," he replied, walking back to his patrol car.

* * *

Grissom leaned his head on his hand, staring absently at the clock. Since he'd gotten back to the lab, he'd done some paperwork, scolded Greg, double-checked Nick's report, fed his pets, scolded Greg again, listened to Catherine's latest complaint about her case, signed some papers, and confiscated the CD player from Greg.

The new tech seemed to be doing very well. And, according to Greg, she knew most of the procedures already. _Now, if I can just keep her from picking up Greg's habits, we should be fine_, he thought to himself. Greg was excited about the prospect of being in the field sooner than expected.

He sighed and glanced around his desk, looking for something productive to do. For once, he didn't have any types of experiments to run, or any paperwork – miracle of all miracles. And he couldn't move forward with his case until the police found their suspect. Any other evidence related to the murder would be on Lee Gibson and his truck.

So they were stuck in a rut, a position that Grissom hated more than anything. That combined with the fact that he could find nothing to do made for a very irritated Gil Grissom.

He studied the clock for a moment. Day shift would be coming in now. He could leave if he wanted, but wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. He was tired, but still very much awake. And he didn't want to leave in case the police found Gibson.

A knock on the glass caught his attention, and he looked up to find Sara standing in his doorway. He quickly sat up, wondering how long she'd been standing there.

"Still no word on our suspect. I talked to Brass and he said he's got some of his best guys on it. They're all looking for a black Chevy with damage to the back. Plus, it'd be pretty hard for Gibson to hide in a crowd, with all the tattoos and piercings he's got."

"You leaving?"

"I was thinking about it. I've been up for a _long_ time and it's finally catching up to me."

Grissom nodded, pushing his chair back and grabbing his old briefcase from under the desk. "Keep your phone on. If we get an update, I'll call you."

Sara was about to answer when there was another knock on the glass. Both she and Grissom turned to see Elaine standing in the doorway. She looked at them both sheepishly. "I wanted to ask one of you a favor," she said softly.

Both CSI's nodded. "Okay, my car's in the shop and I don't have a ride home. Could one of you give me a lift?"

Sara frowned. "How'd you get here earlier?"

"My sister dropped me off. I'd ask her to pick me up, but she's been at the Rampart all night and I think she's drunk."

Grissom nodded, then looked at Sara. Her mouth dropped and she cocked her head to the side a bit. There was a silent battle waging, and neither one really wanted to lose.

Finally Grissom sighed. "All right. Get your stuff and meet me by my truck."

Elaine smiled and nodded, then bounded off to get what she needed.

Sara turned to Grissom and smiled. "Well, that was sweet of you."

He just gave her a hard look before stepping around her. He waited at the door for her, shutting off the lights and closing the door after her. Neither one was feeling very talkative; both minds were filled with thoughts of home and sleep.

Grissom stepped up to his truck, seeing Elaine already standing by the passenger's side, a jacket and a small bag in her hand. The entomologist nodded to Sara as a way to say good-bye, then got into the driver's seat. Elaine got into her seat, buckled up, then looked over at him.

"So...where do you live?" Grissom asked.

* * *

Sara yawned for what felt like the millionth time. She glanced at the clock, verifying that she had only been driving for ten minutes. Traffic was killer, with most people trying to _get_ to work. There were times when she felt that it might be faster to get out and walk. Of course, whenever she thought that, the line she was in surged forward. It reminded her of a scene from the movie 'Office Space'. She half-expected to see an old man with a walker pass her up.

Ironically, she and Grissom were going in the same direction. She could still see his SUV, only one car ahead of hers. She wondered what was going on inside. Was Elaine chatting Grissom's ear off? Or had she fallen asleep? There was no way to tell. _Not that I really care anyway_, she told herself, though a small, nagging voice in the back of her head told her otherwise. She _did_ care what was going on inside the car. She _did_ care if they were talking or if they were merely being civil towards each other. Why she cared, she couldn't really tell. Perhaps she was jealous, wondering why _her_ car couldn't have broken down.

She shook her head, leaning forward to turn the radio on. Maybe some of the hits could take her mind off the curly-haired man in front of her. She found herself tapping her hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, and almost magically, the traffic cleared up some. She was now able to get her SUV over 35 mph.

As they traveled, more cars turned off the road, clearing it up even more. She was now moving at a pace that was acceptable to her. She could still see Grissom ahead, and was now the only car behind him. She smiled, wondering just where Elaine lived.

She was still smiling as they approached the intersection, the light shining green. Just as Grissom was crossing the road, Sara heard an odd noise. She turned her head to the right to see a black truck speeding down the road perpendicular to the one Grissom was on, heading straight for him. A small gaggle of police cars were in pursuit, sirens blazing and lights flashing.

For Sara, time seemed to slow. She was helpless to do anything except watch as the truck struck the side of Grissom's SUV at an angle on the passenger's side. She could hear the crunch of metal against metal, and the sound of glass shattering. She thought she heard a scream, but she would never know if it had really been hers or not.

Grissom's SUV skidded into oncoming traffic and a small car, unable to stop in time, ran into the hood. The black truck had also slid towards the oncoming traffic, but managed to stop in the median. Sara saw movement, and saw the driver of the truck trying to get out and make a break for it.

As soon as the truck had hit, she'd slammed on her brakes, managing not to hit either of the crippled vehicles. Seeing the truck driver trying to flee, she put the SUV into park and all but leapt out of it, grabbing her gun as she went. Pulling it out of the holster, she pointed it towards the driver.

"Stay there!" she shouted.

The man turned to face her and froze, giving Sara plenty of time to see his features. The blood drained from her face. _Lee Gibson_, she thought, recognizing the lizard tattoos and large eyebrow ring. For a moment, she could feel all the blood rushing through her head and all sounds seemed muted.

Lee Gibson stared for a moment more then, perhaps seeing Sara's hesitation, took off running again. By this time, however, the police had gotten out of their cars and were on him. One young cop tackled him to the ground while another cuffed him. A few curse words were exchanged and they roughly picked Gibson up off the ground.

There was a flurry of action around her, but Sara felt almost as if she were separated from it all. Just a spectator in a world that she didn't belong in. She watched a cop as he ran up to Grissom's SUV, then shouted something into his radio. Another pair of cops drug Gibson to a patrol car, shoving him inside and making sure to bang his head against the roof. A female officer was standing in front of Sara. Her lips were moving, but no sound seemed to be coming out.

Then, all at once, Sara felt like she was thrown back into her body. A myriad of sounds assaulted her ears.

"Ma'am," she heard an exasperated voice say. She looked up, seeing that the speaker was the female police officer. "Can I have the gun?" she asked.

Her eyes wide, Sara handed it over without argument. The woman tilted her head down a bit to see Sara's face better. "Are you okay?" Sara nodded. "Do you have any type of identification?" Sara nodded again, digging in her pocket to pull out her crime lab name tag. The cop took it and studied it for a moment before handing it back. She looked up again, seeing that Sara was staring at the wreckage with a pained expression.

"Ma'am? Did you see what happened?"

"Grissom," Sara said, finding that her voice still worked. "Where's Grissom?"

"I don't know who that is. Is Grissom in that car?"

Sara nodded. "Grissom and Elaine. He was...driving her home."

The woman nodded. "Okay. Why don't you have a seat here on the curb? I can have one of our guys bring you home since you're a little shook up. We'll let you know what's going on as soon as we have some more information."

Sara made as if to walk to Grissom's SUV, where an ambulance had just pulled up, but the woman held her back. "You shouldn't go over there. Just have a seat here and we'll help you in a minute." The woman gently pushed Sara to the curb, where the CSI sank to a sitting position.

For a long time, Sara couldn't see anything through the crowd of people gathered around Grissom's vehicle. She watched as an EMT ran to the ambulance to get a bag and a gurney, followed by another EMT getting another gurney. There was another flurry of activity, then she watched as a group of EMT's pushed one of the gurneys to the ambulance, lifting it inside. Sara could barely make out the outline of Grissom's face, covered with an oxygen mask.

Not even thinking, she memorized the name of the hospital on the back of the ambulance, then bolted to her SUV. Her keys were gone, no doubt taken by the police to keep her from driving off, as rattled as she was. But her cell phone was still there. She snatched it up and dialed the first number that came to mind.

"Hello? Yeah, I need a ride. There's been an accident."

To Be Continued...

* * *


	2. The Aftermath

**A/N: Well...here it is! The second half to my latest foray into the CSI universe. I hope it lives up to expectations! As usual, I have to give a big thanks to my wonderful beta, Grissomgal71! She manages to catch things that I miss...and make me wonder how _I_ missed them! And also for putting up with my 'shippiness'. Thanks a ton, Jamie! I think we can upgrade your share of a certain CSI to 40 percent now. What do you think?**

**And thanks to all who have left a review! It's so great to open my inbox and see those in there!**

Sara gripped the handle of the car door as Nick pulled into the hospital parking lot, practically on the two outside wheels. He ignored the speed limit sign, flying down the nearest row. He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel.

"Dammit!" he shouted, staring at the full rows of cars. Sara turned to him, seeing his jaw tensed and an odd mixture of emotions in his eyes. She glanced down, fixing her gaze on the stick-shift. A myriad of her own emotions and memories were going through her head. She wanted to comfort Nick, to let him know that everything was going to be fine, but she kept hearing that awful scream in her head along with the crunching of metal. She couldn't even convince herself that everything was going to be okay.

She closed her eyes, willing the memories out of her head. But they wouldn't leave. She kept seeing the truck slam into the SUV over and over, like a broken memory record.

"Ha!" she heard Nick exclaim, and a moment later was thrown against the door as he turned sharply into the lone empty space. He quickly parked and shut the car down, leaping out of his seat. Sara followed, and together, they made their way into the emergency room.

Inside, Sara approached a woman sitting behind a desk. "I'm looking for a man just brought in from a car accident. Gil Grissom?"

The woman glanced down at some papers. "E16. Second to last door."

"Thank you," Sara said, then bolted down the hall, Nick close behind.

"Sir, I'm afraid you can't go with her. One visitor per patient, please."

Nick stopped, and looked up at Sara. Their eyes met for a moment, then he nodded, turning to sit in a waiting room. He sank into a chair, fidgeting nervously with his hands. Sara watched him for a moment, then continued on her way.

The emergency room was actually a circular room, with two beds per smaller room within. These were separated by a curtain, with glass doors in the front. Sara glanced at each door as she went by, finally finding E16. She stepped through the doors and froze, seeing nurses standing around a bed. One of the nurses looked up when Sara entered.

Sara couldn't take her eyes off the pair of shoes. His_ shoes_, her mind told her.

"Are you with him?"

Sara nodded.

"Gil Grissom? That's his name, right?"

"Yeah," Sara managed to say.

The nurse nodded. "We think he may have suffered a concussion. He's not quite sure where he is or what happened, but he is awake. He's on a backboard and a neck brace until we can do x-rays to make sure nothing's broken." Sara nodded again. The nurse managed a smile. "Come on. Maybe a friendly face will help."

The nurse led her to Grissom's side, where Sara had to stop for a moment. She'd been told what to expect, but wasn't really prepared. Grissom's head was surrounded by foam rolls on either side to immobilize it somewhat, with straps on his forehead and chin. A heart monitor was clipped to his finger, and the steady beat was shown on a screen hanging on the wall. There were straps on his chest, stomach, and legs to keep him from moving off the backboard. His eyes were open, but staring blankly at the sterile ceiling.

The nurse leaned over so she was right in Grissom's eyesight. He slowly focused on her. "Gil? Gil, do you know where you are?" she asked.

Sara watched Grissom's eyes close for a moment as he racked his memory. Finally he shook his head.

"You're at the Desert Palm hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

Once again, Grissom searched for an answer but came up with nothing.

"You were in a car accident. The ambulance brought you here." The woman motioned for Sara to step closer. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Sara. I'm his...friend."

The woman nodded. "Gil? Sara's here."

At the nurse's indication, Sara stepped forward so Grissom could see her. At first his eyes were empty, but slowly recognition sank into them. Sara smiled for his sake and reached over to take his hand. "You're gonna be okay, you hear me?"

Grissom stared at her a moment more, then turned to look back at the ceiling, closing his eyes. A moment later, a man walked in, pulling Grissom's chart from the cubby. He looked over it, then stepped up next to Grissom's bed, getting in his eyesight.

"Mr. Grissom?" he said. Grissom's eyes slowly fluttered open and focused on the doctor. "I'm Dr. Saban. Do you know where you are?"

Grissom's eyes shifted back and forth as he tried to think. "No."

"You're in the hospital. Desert Palm. You were in a car accident. We think you bumped your head pretty hard."

"Accident?" Grissom repeated.

"Yes, a car accident. Now, I'm going to get this lady right here to draw some blood, okay? Then we're going to take you to get some x-rays done." The doctor patted Grissom's arm, then stepped out of the room, all but ignoring Sara.

An older nurse pulled a stool up next to his bed. "Just a little stick, Gil. This might hurt a bit." As she spoke, she pulled the cap off a needle and swabbed Grissom's arm. Grissom's only reaction to the stick was to stiffen up and groan. The nurse wrapped gauze around the puncture when she finished and nodded to a man standing in the doorway.

"Gil?" she said again. Grissom's eyes opened. "Do you know where you are?"

A long pause. "Hospital?"

The nurse smiled. "Right. Which one?"

Another long pause. Then Grissom shook his head.

"You're at Desert Palm."

"What happened?" Grissom asked, his voice now hoarse.

"You were in a car accident." She motioned for the young man to step forward.

"Mr. Grissom? I'm Neal. We're going to take you to get some tests done, okay?" They didn't get a reply, but weren't really expecting one. They undid the brakes on the bed, and the young man began to wheel it out of the room. As they passed by, Sara gave Grissom's hand another squeeze. A moment later, they were out of sight, and Sara was left alone.

She sank down into the nearest stool, feeling as if her feet were made of lead. A feeling of utter hopelessness consumed her, and all she could do was cry.

* * *

"Mr. Grissom hit his head against the window, shattering it. Luckily, he suffered no lacerations. He's just got a moderate concussion," Dr. Saban told them. "I think it would also be best if he has someone to stay with him. Just to keep an eye on him." He pulled a few pieces of paper out of his shirt pocket. "These are his prescriptions. Needless to say, he's going to be hurting in the morning. He'll also need to see his usual physician in a few days for a check-up."

Nick stared at the papers for a moment after taking them. "There was someone else in the SUV with him. A young woman: Elaine Klemmings. What about her?"

The doctor's face became dark. "She never made it to the hospital. She died en route."

For the longest time, neither Nick or Sara could say anything. It was as if a heavy weight had just been placed on their shoulders with the death of another member of their crazy little family.

"Just like Holly..." Nick said to himself. Both of their minds were filled with images of both Holly Gribbs and Elaine Klemmings, both killed needlessly on their first day.

Nick was the first to recover.

"What happened to her?"

"The impact from the first car bent the frame of the vehicle as well as the door. Essentially, she was pinned. We believe that it was this first impact that broke her spine. The impact from the second, smaller car, only succeeded in shoving the dashboard forward, pinning her legs. Veins were cut and she bled out a good bit. An autopsy will be performed to find the exact cause of death."

Nick nodded, wondering why he'd had to ask.

"Well," the doctor said, clearing his throat, "Mr. Grissom should be on his way out. We'll have an attendant wheel him out to your car for you. He should be able to walk, though he may be shaky. Things will still be a little fuzzy for him, but for the most part he knows what happened."

"Does he know about the girl?" Sara asked.

The doctor shook his head. "No one's told him."

"Geez..." Nick said, running a hand over his face.

"I suggest you wait until tomorrow to tell him, or wait until he asks. Telling him too soon may have some psychological setbacks."

Nick and Sara nodded, then turned when a door behind them opened. They recognized the man pushing the wheelchair as Neal. Then they looked down at Grissom. He was sitting very still in the chair, his eyes fixed on the floor, not really seeing anything.

Nick smiled, more for Grissom's benefit than anything. "Hey, Gris."

Grissom looked up, slowly focusing on the man in front of him. "Nick," he said softly. He turned his eyes to Sara, and she thought she saw a small smile cross his lips.

Nick looked from Gris to Sara, then stepped forward after a moment. "You ready to go home, Gris?"

Grissom's eyes moved from Sara to the Texan. He nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

Nick glanced in the rearview mirror, a small smile on his face. They'd put Grissom in the back, giving the man enough room to stretch out or lie any way that was comfortable. Grissom, true to his nature, had buckled himself in and sat properly in his seat. But he had fallen asleep during the ride, his head leaning against the window. The position looked uncomfortable, but Grissom was sleeping peacefully.

Nick, still smiling, turned to look at the woman occupying the passenger's seat. Sara had been almost completely silent throughout the ride, her eyes also fixed on the rearview mirror. She caught Nick's gaze, smiled, then looked away.

Nick smirked. "He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping, you know? I mean, he's not yelling at anyone..."

Sara shook her head, though a small smile crossed her own face.

Nick sighed, reaching his right hand down to give hers a squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel. "Don't worry, Sara. Everything's going to be okay."

They reached Grissom's townhouse a few minutes later, and Nick pulled up into a parking spot as close as he could get. He shut off the SUV, then hopped out and went to the back to grab the bags they had tossed back there.

Sara, on the other hand, opened up the passenger door in the back, opposite of where Grissom still slept. She leaned on the seat somewhat, reaching across to shake Grissom's arm.

"Gris. Gris, wake up."

He stirred and let out a small moan before opening his eyes. He blinked, looking lost for a moment. Then he turned and fixed his eyes on Sara, still looking rather confused. "Sara?" he asked.

"Yeah, Gris. C'mon. Let's get you upstairs so you can get some sleep."

He gave her a small grin. "That'd be great."

They managed to get Grissom up to his house without much difficulty. Nick escorted the still-woozy Grissom into his bedroom while Sara emptied the bags. Most of them contained Grissom's prescriptions, which totaled three. Others contained snack stuffs. Nick and Sara had decided one of them should stay with Grissom, instead of calling up one of the other CSI's. After a short debate, it was decided that Sara would stay.

Nick returned a few minutes later, shutting Grissom's door behind him. He jerked a thumb in that direction. "He's sleeping. He managed to change out of his clothes and get under a blanket before zonking out."

Sara nodded, glancing around the living room. Not much had changed since she'd last been there years ago. With the exception of a few more books on the shelf and a few different knick knacks, most of it was exactly the same.

Nick was also looking around. "Definitely a bachelor pad. You sure you want to stay? I mean, I've got no problem staying with him."

Sara shook her head. "I'm fine, Nick. We'll be fine."

* * *

Sara yawned and stretched, then let her head fall back onto the soft pillow. She wanted to go back to sleep, but something felt off. This didn't feel like her bed. Lifting her head again, she studied the plain walls of the room. She sat up quickly, realizing that she wasn't even in her own home.

All at once, the memories of the day before came flooding back to her. The case, the crash, Grissom, and Elaine. She closed her eyes as the crash replayed in her mind, complete with crunching metal and the terrified scream.

The muted sounds of a television interrupted her thoughts and her eyes shot open. Pulling on a pair of socks to protect her feet from the cold floor, she made her way towards the sound. She found herself at the door to Grissom's bedroom.

The door was open a bit, but she knocked first. "Grissom?" she called.

"Yeah," came the groggy reply. She slowly pushed the door open, seeing him sitting up on his bed. He had the blankets gathered at his waist, and his pillows were set up behind his back for support. He seemed to be watching the television, yet he also seemed to be half-asleep. He turned his half-closed eyes towards her. "Hey," he said.

She stepped further into the room, taking a moment to study him. A dark bruise had appeared on his face, spreading out from his left temple, the only sign of the horrible accident that she could see. She grimaced, knowing that it was where his head had hit the glass. She closed her eyes and fought off an unbidden image. Then she looked back at him again. "Hey, Gris. How're you feeling?"

"I've been better," he admitted, shifting so that she could sit on the edge of the bed, which she did. "My head is killing me."

"Did you take your medicine?" she asked, glancing at the prescription bottles on the nightstand. She stole another glance at his face, seeing that it had also swollen up a bit. It had seemed worse yesterday. No doubt the medicine was helping.

"Yeah, a few minutes ago," he said, closing his eyes for a long moment. "It'll take a while to kick in."

Sara nodded, turning to the television. Trying to take his mind away from the pain, she asked, "What are you watching?"

Grissom frowned, then forced his tired eyes open wider than before. He studied the screen for a moment. "I don't even know. Looks like Court TV."

Sara gave him a small smile. "No fun watching the end of the case if you don't know what was going on."

"True," Grissom replied, adjusting the blankets around him. As he moved, Sara idly looked him over, seeing something that alarmed her.

Her hand shot out, grasping Grissom's left wrist, while her other hand gently pushed the sleeve of his t-shirt up, revealing a large bruise that covered most of his upper arm. He cringed slightly, but tried to hide it from her.

"Oh my God, Grissom," she said, slightly shocked. "Is this from the accident?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Grissom looked down at it, one side of his mouth lifting in a half-grimace. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "From when I got thrown against the door."

"Did your doctor see it?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. He said it would go away, just like any other bruise, Sara."

Sara smirked, glad that he was feeling good enough to take his matter-of-fact voice with her. As gently as she could, she pulled his sleeve back down, covering the wound. Then she laid her hands on his arm.

"Are you hungry, Gris? It must have been a while since you've eaten."

"A little," he admitted. "Let's go see what I have," he said, moving to get out of the bed.

Sara stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Whoa. No. You stay, Grissom." She smiled. "I can't have you passing out on me. Tell you what: I'll check and see what kind of food you have, then I'll let you know and you can tell me what you want. Okay?"

He looked a little put-out at not being involved in his own food preparation, but nodded anyway.

She patted his shoulder gently, then stood up and made her way to the kitchen. The refrigerator, she decided after a moment of searching, was only a little surprising. She pushed past a jar of chocolate-covered grasshoppers and a Petri dish to grab a carton of milk, only to discover that it had recently expired. She made a face, then found his garbage can. Her cleaning habits came back into play, and she found herself pulling out everything in the fridge, throwing away all that was expired, rotten, or growing things on it.

The state of his kitchen actually impressed her. Many of the expired items had recently gone past their date, and very few things seemed near mutation. This told her that Grissom actually kept up with it somewhat. She'd figured that he rarely ate at home, as seldom as he was there.

The cupboards and freezer contents also surprised her, yet made perfect sense. Frozen foods and boxed items would hold a lot longer, allowing him to use them whenever he was home. She rummaged through everything, then went back to Grissom's room.

He was still in the same position as before, though now his eyes were closed. She tentatively stepped forward, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.

"Grissom?" she called softly.

He stirred and opened his eyes. He saw her, then attempted to sit up straight. "Yeah?"

She grinned. "How hungry are you? Because I can make a meal, or just heat up a TV dinner."

He blinked slowly. "A TV dinner would be fine. I'm not really _that_ hungry." He cleared his throat. "If you're hungry, you can help yourself. I'm not really sure what would be good for you, though."

She nodded, then went back out to the kitchen to get his food. She found a simple roast beef meal for him, then discovered a seafood gumbo for her. She had never tried gumbo before, but to her it looked like seafood soup with rice. She adjusted the oven, then put the meals in, checking them every few minutes.

When the food was done, she dug through a shelf, finding a wooden breakfast tray for the hot pans. She put the food on it, then carried it into Grissom's room.

He was a little more alert this time when she entered, and actually seemed to fully understand her presence.

She set the tray down on his lap, handing him a fork before sitting on a chair to eat her own food. For a while, neither one of them spoke. Finally, Sara broke the silence. "This gumbo stuff is good, Gris. I've never tried it before."

He smiled. "Yeah. It's a Louisiana thing. Jamie Cohen from days got me started on it, and she got it from Sears." He fell quiet for a moment, the smile wilting from his face. He looked at the floor, then up at Sara.

She caught his eyes, and nearly choked on her food. There was such a profound expression of pain in them that it shocked her.

"Sara..." he began softly. "What happened yesterday to...to Elaine?"

Sara felt her throat constrict and her heart drop. She knew that he needed to know, and would have found out sooner or later, but she didn't want to be the one to add extra weight to his already over-burdened soul.

Her silence and torn expression seemed to speak for her. His eyes shifted to the ground, then clenched shut. "She didn't make it, did she?"

Sara closed her own eyes for a moment. "No, Gris. She didn't make it. She died on the way to the hospital."

He nodded, his eyes still closed. His hand clenched the fork tightly. Then, without warning, he flung the fork, cardboard plate and tray across the room, slamming them against the wall. He was out of the bed, standing with his head in his hands, in an instant.

Sara was on her feet and at his side immediately, trying to calm him. He pushed her away.

"Go!" he shouted, his voice cracking a bit. "Just go!"

"Grissom..." she began, but he waved her off.

"Get out, Sara!" he cried, leaning against a wall for support.

Her feelings hurt, Sara held up her hands and quickly retreated, shutting the door behind her. She sat stiffly on his small couch, listening to the muffled sounds from within his room. After a moment, the slamming subsided, followed by what sounded like retching.

Before she could quite think about it, she was up and walking back towards his door. She pushed it open and, not seeing Grissom anywhere, went to a door that led to a small bathroom. She knocked once, then pushed open the door when there was no reply.

Grissom was knelt over his toilet, retching though nothing came out. He coughed and fell backward against the side of the bathtub, his face buried in his hands. He wasn't crying, but was suffering from the emotional aspect of everything.

Sara went to his side, just wanting to be there for him. She put an arm around his shoulder, and was surprised when he melted into her, leaning on her for support. She threw her other arm around him, gently stroking his hair.

"Oh God..." He moaned quietly. "It's just like Holly...It's all my fault."

She held him tighter, feeling his body shiver. "No, Grissom. It's not. It was an accident. There was nothing you could have done."

"I should have checked on her...made sure she was all right."

Sara thought about what the doctor had said. About how Grissom was only conscious long enough to dial half of a phone number before passing out.

"Grissom," she said sternly. "You couldn't have done anything. She was pinned in the car. There was nothing you could have done," she repeated, holding him closer as his shivering continued.

* * *

Sara peeked into Grissom's room. She could see his still form underneath the blankets of his bed, slightly rising and falling as he breathed. He had obviously kicked and rolled about in his sleep, as his blankets were now tangled around his body awkwardly.

Sara let a small smile cross her lips, then slowly crept inside. She didn't want to wake him, but didn't want him to get cold in the cool townhouse either. She stepped up to the side of his bed, gently pulling the blanket out from under his legs. He groaned in his sleep and moved a little. Sara froze, but he didn't wake, he just slept on.

She managed to get him situated somewhat, then hunkered down by the bed, studying his sleeping features. His face would tic every one in a while, so she knew his dreams were not peaceful. She frowned, then reached up and ran a hand down the side of his face, being careful of the bruise that still marred his face. It still hurt him. During his waking hours she would catch glimpses of him frowning and bringing a hand up to it. She wanted to help him, but knew there was nothing she could do. It was up to Grissom's own body to heal that wound.

He groaned again as he slept, his face contorting with pain and fear. He began breathing quickly and shallow, which caused Sara to grow concerned. She watched as he curled up into a ball at first, then relaxed himself, crying out softly.

She leaned over the bed, putting a hand gently on his head. She didn't want to wake him, just give him some kind of indication that he wasn't alone.

"Grissom..." she said softly. "Shhh....It's okay. I'm here, Gris." She ran her fingers through his hair, hoping that it would help to calm him.

Eventually, his breathing slowed to normal. He sighed once more, then buried his face in his pillow, as if trying to hide from the demons that haunted him.

Sara stayed by his bed for the rest of the night. She wanted to be there for him when he needed her.

* * *

Nearly a week went by with little incident. After the second day, Grissom sent Sara home, joking that he didn't need a babysitter. She grudgingly went, reminding him to call if he needed anything at all. She returned to work, in time to hear Lee Gibson's confession to both the Scott Allen murder and the car accident.

He claimed that he'd backed into the kid at a local computer store. The kid was upset, and had wanted to get the police involved. Gibson panicked; one more accident and he'd either lose his license or spend time in jail. He'd drug Allen into an alley, shot him with a gun kept in the glove compartment of his car, then stabbed him. When asked where he'd gotten the knife, Gibson clammed up. He just said something about being afraid. A tox screen, however, showed that he was under the influence of much more than adrenaline.

Sara watched this from the observation room, doubting that she'd be able to face Gibson without losing control. Nick had left early as well, after snapping at the perp when he shrugged off the accident. Brass was also seething, but was able to keep it under wraps somewhat. His voice cracked, however, when he mentioned the injured CSI and the dead CSI.

Sara entered the break room later, her body craving coffee. She found Nick already at the table, staring blankly into his cup.

"Hey," she said, sliding down next to him.

He looked up at her. "Hey. How's Gris?"

She smirked, wondering how many people knew that she was still going to Grissom's home to check up on him. "He's better. I took him to his physician on Monday. Everything's fine. He still gets headaches, but they're getting less frequent."

Nick nodded. "That's good."

"Yeah. He'll be back at the lab on Friday. Being stuck at home is really bugging him."

"I'll bet. For a guy like Gris? Whew...must be like twisting the knife." He fell silent for a moment, turning his coffee mug around and around. "You know, the funeral's tomorrow."

Sara nodded. "I know. Grissom knows." She glanced at Nick's coffee. "He wants to be there. He still feels responsible. Like he should have been able to do something."

Nick made a face. "There's nothing at all he could have done. I mean, he's lucky to be alive himself."

"He feels like their places should have been switched," Catherine said from the door. She stepped further inside, sitting in a chair opposite Sara.

"Grissom wishes he had died?" Nick asked.

Sara shook her head. "Grissom didn't want to die. But he didn't want anyone else to die either."

Catherine nodded. "So...Gil wants to be there tomorrow? Greg will be there. He knew her the best. Atwater's going to be there too."

"He didn't even know her. He's just doing it for publicity," Sara scoffed.

Catherine shrugged. "He lost one of his 'dream team'. Of course he wants the public to see him mourn the loss."

Nick shook his head. "He's no better than Mobley."

"Politicians, Nicky. They have their own agendas." Catherine turned to Sara. "Elaine's parents will be there tomorrow. From what I've heard, they don't know the whole story. So...try to catch them before they get to Gil and say something to upset him even more." With that, Catherine gave them both a smile and set off to deal with Hodges.

* * *

Grissom found himself studying Sara's face as she worked on his tie. Normally, he would have been able to do everything himself, but an exceptional headache and shaky hands made it near impossible. After fumbling with it for a few moments, he'd finally given up and asked Sara for help.

He was beginning to question that decision when he discovered that all he could focus on was her face. He was memorizing every detail of it, though he already knew most of it. He liked to tell himself that he didn't know why he was doing it, but a small voice in the back of his mind begged to differ. The truth was, he wanted to be able to recall the smallest detail of her when she left him. He had no doubt that once he was well and back at work, she would all but disappear again. Whether from his doing or her own, it was bound to happen. He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Sara pat his chest, right by the knot on his tie. He looked at her.

"There you go," she said, smiling at him.

He looked down at his tie, running his fingers over the smooth silk before looking back up at her. It was then that he discovered how close they really were; she was only a few inches from his face.

"Thank you," he said, his eyes meeting hers.

"You're welcome, Grissom," she replied, a small smile crossing her lips.

"I meant for everything. For being there for me, taking care of-" Grissom was cut off when Sara put a finger against his lips.

"I know, Gris. And you're very welcome. Very welcome," she repeated softly, removing her finger.

For a long time, neither one moved. Then, to both of their surprise, Grissom moved forward, tentatively catching Sara's lips in a kiss. It was very hesitant at first, but Sara soon found herself returning it. Grissom's beard tickled her skin, adding to the sensations.

Finally they pulled apart. They just stood there for a moment, with Grissom wondering if he had made the biggest mistake of his life. But Sara smiled, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Grissom wrapped his arms around her, running one hand through her hair.

"I'm not too late, am I?" he asked quietly, needing to know the answer to the questions badgering his mind. He knew that he had messed up for too long, only managing to push her away. But the accident, the death of another employee, and being faced with his own mortality had opened his eyes. He knew now that stalling could only end badly, that one day he would truly be too late. He just prayed that his time hadn't already passed.

Sara put a hand on the back of his head and put her check against his. "No, Grissom. You're not too late." She turned and kissed his cheek. "Never too late," she whispered.

* * *

The funeral was held on a bright, sunny day, ironically much like the one Elaine had died on. The sunlight made the cemetery almost seem cheerful, if not for the somber group dressed in black.

There was an unspoken segregation among the mourners. Family and friends stood to one side of the coffin, while co-workers of one day stood on the other. Grissom and Sara were in the front of their group.

Everyone had starting out standing, save for the Klemmings family. But Sara soon noticed that Grissom seemed more than a little unsteady on his feet, and kept closing his eyes to take a deep breath. Finally, she slipped out of the crowd and came back with a chair. At first he protested, but soon gave in after blackness began to creep into the edges of his vision.

Sara had kept a firm hold on his hand earlier, but now kept a comforting hand on his shoulder. Nick and Greg stood to either side of them, their faces stoic and calm. While they appeared resolute on the outside, Sara caught glimpses of Greg's hands shaking. He would sigh, shake them, then shove them into his pockets.

The priest recited scripture in a loud, booming voice, telling everyone of God's plan. Elaine's parents sat together, her mother sobbing into her husband's shoulder. Sara kept seeing Mr. Klemmings shooting glares in Grissom's direction. Grissom saw them too, and while he knew that Elaine's death wasn't his fault, he couldn't bring himself to meet the grieving father's eyes. He would divert his own eyes to either the ground or the coffin when Mr. Klemmings began to look in his direction.

Grissom soon lost himself in his thoughts, only pulled out when the coffin was lowered into the ground. He felt Sara squeeze his shoulder, and reached a hand up to grasp hers. He closed his eyes as the coffin disappeared from view, willing the nightmare to end.

As the mourners began to disperse, Sara caught a glimpse of Sheriff Atwater. He stared at the fresh hole for a moment, gave a slight nod of his head, then turned away. He only got as far as the gate before he was hounded by reporters, all shoving a microphone in his face.

"Sheriff Atwater," one woman said, pushing ahead of the rest. "What is it like to lose a member of your crime lab on her very first day?"

Atwater sighed. "It's hard. It's always hard. Whether someone has been there a day, a year, or a decade, it's still hard." When he said this, he glanced at Grissom and Sara, who were slowly making their way to Sara's SUV. He gave them a small nod.

"And what of the CSI who was injured in the accident?"

"Yeah. Gil Grissom, was it?" another reported interjected.

"Mr. Grissom suffered minor injuries and is well on his way to recovery. We hope to see him back at work in a few days."

The reporters kept asking Atwater questions regarding the perpetrator and the lab's plans. Grissom and Sara were grateful for this, as it gave them more of a chance to get out without being bothered. They made it out of the gate together, and sighed a breath of relief.

Sara wrapped her arm around Grissom's, leaning her head on his arm. He smiled, glad that something felt right.

Suddenly, a lone reporter found them, his cameraman close behind him. Grissom was shocked at first when the microphone was shoved into his face, but managed to mask it. Sara made to separate from him, but he put an arm around her, keeping her close.

"Mr. Grissom," the reporter said in a dramatic voice. "After the death of another CSI, what are you going to do now?"

Grissom looked down at Sara and smiled. "I'm going to rebuild. Make sure things are in order," he said simply. "What happened was a tragic accident, and as much as it hurt every one, there is nothing we can do to change it. All we can do is look to the future and hope that it's brighter than the past."

* * *

Grissom yawned loudly where he sat on the couch, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Sara smiled and looked up at him from where she was snuggled against him.

"Sleepy?" she asked.

He shrugged. "A little bit. But I'm sick of sleeping all of the time."

"How long did the doctor say that was going to happen?"

Another shrug. "He said I'd feel odd for at least a week. But he also said to watch for things like forgetfulness and feeling detached from everything."

She grinned even wider. "So...how's your memory?"

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her. "I remember that."

She sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to him. "So...what do we do now? With you and me?" She cringed as she said the words. She didn't want to seem pushy, but she also didn't want this to be a fling because he'd gotten hurt.

But it didn't seem to bother him. His arm tightened around her. "Look to the future. Hope that it's brighter than the past. And with you here, it's looking _very_ bright."

**END**


End file.
